


Cookie's Country

by Castiron



Category: Sesame Street (TV), The Muppets - All Media Types
Genre: Cooking, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 01:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiron/pseuds/Castiron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cookie Monster is determined to make this episode of his cooking show run smoothly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cookie's Country

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Northern_Star](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northern_Star/gifts).



"Hello, and welcome to Cookie's Country, with me, Cookie Monster. That right, Cookie Monster. Me not Christopher Kimball, and this not his show. Me lawyer say me must say that.... Anyway! Time for this week's show! Today we have extra big treat for you. We going to talk about Russian food with our special guest, hockey star Alexander Ovechkin! But first, Sam the Eagle will tell us about traditional American food."

* * *

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. He, Cookie Monster, loved eating. Especially eating cookies. Most especially cookies; all other edibles, while delicious, were a poor second. Not much difference between a head of broccoli and a Ford F-150, except that the truck was less likely to talk back to you. Anyway, what better job for a food lover than host of cooking show? (Other than restaurant reviewer, and the less said about how the _Daily Chronicle_ had fired him, the better.)

In actuality.... It was odd that his assistant director Kermit the Frog and his assistant chef Miss Piggy never spoke to each other and avoided each other as much as they could, but at least they did their jobs well, and his equipment tester Prairie Dawn was utterly competent. In spite of that, however, every episode of _Cookie's Country_ had had some disaster. The fruit salad that had started singing; Crazy Harry's blender repair; the lussekatter battle between Tina Nordström and the Swedish Chef; Grover's buttered popcorn recipe that had left the studio trampled by cows and strewn with corn husks.... Perhaps it had been a mistake to agree to produce a cooking show that aired live.

Today would be better, though. Today they would air a good episode, and the station would keep them on the air. He hoped.

"Cookie?" Prairie Dawn slipped into the monitor room and whispered, "There's something I need to tell you...."

"Wait just a minute." Cookie turned his attention to the monitor, where Sam was saying, "...that quintessential American food, the frankfurter. As we know, the frankfurter is named for the capital of Kentucky...."

Oh, no. Ignoring Prairie Dawn, Cookie hurried onto the set. "Er, Sam? Frankfurter not named for city in Kentucky; it named for city in Germany."

"Oh." Sam blinked. "Well. It is also known as the wiener. This is, of course, another _very_ American name, being a mispronunciation of Vienna, a city in Virginia near our nation's capital...."

"No no no. Sam? Sam? Not Vienna, Virginia; Vienna, _Austria_."

Sam stared at Cookie. "Are you telling me that a great national food is named after a _foreign_ city? Why, next I suppose you will tell me that the hamburger is....oh." He turned back to the camera. "Tune in next time, when I will talk about another truly American food: the enchilada."

Cookie shook his head as Sam strutted off the set, then faced the camera. "Now it time for our next feature: using leftovers, with our resourceful cook Oscar the Grouch."

He settled in the monitor room to watch Oscar demonstrate his recipe for chicken salad. Prairie Dawn had left, presumably to prepare for her segment.

Kermit looked in a couple minutes later. "Cookie, the donut shop down the road just dropped off six dozen boxes of jelly donuts and asked if we'd mention them on the show."

Cookie sighed and wished that the fresh cookie bakery three blocks away were so persistent. "Answer is still no. Put them in your car and take them home to share with your siblings or something." He collapsed into a chair. "Is running big-time television show always this complicated? Me not remember Monsterpiece Theatre being like this."

Kermit shrugged. "Actually, Cookie, this would've been a quiet episode on the Muppet Show."

"Yeah, that was great program. Too bad last two seasons never released on DVD. You were all amazing, yeah. You and Fozzie and Miss Piggy...." Cookie noticed that Kermit was staring vacantly at his clipboard. "What happened with you and Piggy anyway? Me thought you two were item."

Kermit shrugged. "Nothing _happened_. We just weren't compatible, so we drifted apart."

"Really? On screen you look like perfect couple." 

"It was only acting, Cookie. Don't believe everything you saw in the movies."

"Then why are you so unhappy?"

"What do you mean? I'm perfectly happy."

"You no look happy."

Kermit turned towards the monitor. "Uh-oh. Was that in the script?"

"Huh. Me not remember blue cheese in that recipe....oh no, that not cheese."

He reached the set just as Oscar was saying, "...and they're best when they're all slimy and yucky. Of course, when you eat them, you'll be sick for days, but grouches _love_ having food poisoning, because it gives us something to be miserable about."

"Aaand thank you Oscar. Next we have...."

"Hey, I wasn't finished!"

"Yes you were." Cookie pushed him off the set, then turned to the camera. "Next we have Prairie Dawn, who has been testing food processors. Yes, machines that make it faster to chop up tasty vegetables and grind up yummy pesto and mix delicious cookie dough...." Must stop before cookies distract me, he thought. "So, welcome Prairie Dawn!"

The camera switched to Prairie Dawn, standing in front of several machines. "Thank you, Cookie. A food processor, while not essential, can be a useful accessory to have in your kitchen. We tested eight...."

Having confirmed that the Count von Count had not sneaked into the audience, Cookie went to the offstage kitchen, where Miss Piggy was giving orders to the dishwashers. "...and we must make sure that the bowls are sparkling, so as to better show off the lovely colors of the spices. So you'll help moi, _won't you_?"

"Yes, Miss Piggy," said the trembling dishwashers before they scurried away.

Cookie wondered again why he'd decided to hire rats as dishwashers, then said to Piggy, "Me looking forward to your blueberry apple pie."

"Oh, hello, Cookie. I changed my mind. The blueberries were off, and the apples turned out to be sentient, so I'm demonstrating a rum and raspberry cake with a hazelnut-infused ganache."

"Okay. Me let Kermit know in case it affects camera angles." At Miss Piggy's snort, he asked, "Whatever happen between you and frog, anyway?"

"Oh, it was something stupid and silly, years ago."

"And Kermit not willing to forgive and forget? Me thought him pretty easygoing frog."

"No, _he_ was the one being...oh, all right, it was both of us. We were out for a romantic evening; we'd had a bottle of good wine and a lovely spinach-and-feta salad, and then for the entree he ordered filet mignon wrapped in _bacon_."

"Oops."

"Exactly. So I asked him if he wanted to have dessert at Doc Hopper's, and it all went downhill from there...." She took out a handkerchief and blew her nose. "But it's all water under the bridge. He does not want me in his life; I do not want him in mine, and we're both _happy_."

"You no look happy." Cookie paused. "Me think me experiencing déjà vu."

"Experiencing what? Anyway, as a matter of fact, I _am_ happy. _Quite_ happy. _Overjoyed_. Because I don't need this lousy pastry and I don't need this lousy show and I certainly don't need that lousy _frog_."

"Um, Cookie?"

Kermit stood in the doorway, mouth tight. Uh-oh.

But Miss Piggy sniffed and turned her back to Kermit, loudly measuring ingredients for her chocolate raspberry cake.

Cookie sighed. "What is it, Kermit?"

"Prairie Dawn's almost finished with her segment; you're up in three." Kermit glanced at Piggy, harrumphed, and left.

At least there had been no disaster in Prairie Dawn's segment. Cookie returned to the set just in time to hear her say, "....and I'm so sad to tell everyone that this is my last time on Cookie's Country."

"What???" Forgetting the cameras, Cookie ran onto the set. "You _quitting_?"

"I'm sorry, Cookie. I tried to tell you earlier."

"But why? Why you leave?"

"Well, American Masters offered me a job hosting a series on great piano players. I couldn't turn that down."

"But you have to stay! You best person on this show!"

"Excuse me?" Miss Piggy shouted from offstage.

"You one of the best people on this show! You competent! We can't do without you!"

"Yes you can, Cookie."

"But...."

"Er, Cookie? This is a live recording."

Oh, _broccoli_. Cookie took a deep breath. "Congratulations on new job, and good luck. Let's say good-bye everybody to Prairie Dawn!"

He managed to not break down sobbing as she left the set; he still had to get through another half hour. "Now it time for our special guest. Yes, we have very special guest today. Taking time off from practicing for Olympics, our guest is hockey star Alexander Ovechkin!"

The audience applauded as the young man joined Cookie behind the table. Cookie continued, "Welcome Mr. Ovechkin, who is captain of Washington Nationals."

"Um, Cookie?" Alexander whispered. "That's the baseball team."

"Oh, sorry. Captain of Washington Redskins."

"No, no, Cookie, it's the Washington Capitals."

"Huh. You not even look lowercase." Cookie shrugged. "Anyway. Today Mr. Ovechkin and I make traditional Russian food: pirozhki. Pirozhki are yummy buns filled with meat or cabbage or hard-boiled eggs. So, let us make... pirozhki."

Amazingly, the demonstration went smoothly. Nothing exploded when Alexander turned on the mixer; the hard-boiled eggs didn't start cheeping; the premade dough remained on the table instead of slithering away. Cookie finally began to relax.

The assembled pirozhki set aside, Cookie turned to the oven. "And now we show you pirozhki we started baking at beginning of show!"

Alexander tilted his head. "Ah, Cookie? How long ago was that?"

Cookie looked at Ovechkin, then at the oven. "Uh-oh."

The pirozhkis on the baking sheet were rock-hard and, even Cookie had to admit, unappetizing. "Oh, no! Me very sorry me ruin your food."

Ovechkin grinned and pulled his hockey stick out from under the table. "That's all right, Cookie. They'll make perfect pucks for my team to practice with. Ilya! Pavel! Evgeni!"

Before Cookie could interrupt, three men leapt up from the audience and ran to the stage, hockey sticks in hand.

"Stop!" Cookie shouted as the mixer crashed to the floor. "No, not the spice rack! Wait, you too near the flour...augh!" When the coughing fit passed, he wiped the flour from his eyes just in time to see the metal bowl and six cups of chopped cabbage fly across the studio. "Wait! You going to hit the eggs! Wait, audience, don't leave....watch out for that knife! Hey, that was me favorite measuring cup! Oh, come on, guys! Stop it! Stop stop stop stop!"

The last overcooked pirozohk shot into the oven; the men all nodded to each other and left the studio, Ovechkin pausing only to say, "Thanks, Cookie! That was the most challenging practice we've had in weeks!"

Cookie looked around the wreckage of the set and at the suddenly depleted audience. "Oh, no."

"Don't worry," Kermit said, picking up a rag to wipe the camera lens. "I'm sure we can clean this up in time for...."

"Oh, Cookieeee! I am ready for moi's segment..." Miss Piggy jerked to a halt, staring at the overturned table and the chunks of egg white. "What _is_ this?"

He had to save this somehow. "Hello, viewing audience! We having minor technical difficulties, but...."

"Technical difficulties?" She slammed her tray of cakes to the floor. "You call this technical difficulties?"

"We fixing it! Just wait a few minutes; me sorry it look like a pigsty—"

As he flew through the air, Cookie thought, _Okay, me walked into that one._

"For your information, Mr. Blue-in-the-Face, I gave up the chance to work on a _real_ show for this lousy half-baked excuse for a television program. And _this_ is how you treat me?" She collapsed, sobbing. "My life is ruined."

"Piggy!" Kermit threw down his clipboard. "Don't say that."

"As if _you_ care."

"That's right I care! Every day since I said that stupid thing—that's right, I'm not ashamed to tell our viewing audience! I said something cruel and stupid to you, and I've regretted it every day since. Every time we act together and say romantic words on the set, every time we turn our backs on each other as soon as the camera's off, it's another reminder that I broke the thing that matters most to me. And all I want, all I've wanted for years, was the chance to put it back together, but I was too proud to say so. Well, I'm not proud anymore. Piggy, can you forgive me?"

Miss Piggy blinked tears from her eyes. "Oh, Kermie. Of course I can. And can you forgive moi for never saying how much I wanted you back?"

The two fell into each others' arms. Cookie enjoyed the sentiment for a few seconds, then realized that they were showing no sign of separating. "Um, Piggy? Kermit? We have show to finish."

Miss Piggy lifted her head from Kermit's shoulder long enough to glare at Cookie. "Buzz off, furball. This is more important."

Kermit released Miss Piggy. "We do have something more important to do now, Piggy."

"We do?"

"Yes. It's twelve hundred and sixty-six miles to Las Vegas, I have a full tank of gas, half a gross of glazed donuts, it's light out, and I'm wearing a necktie."

Miss Piggy looked at Cookie Monster, then at Kermit. "Hit it."

"Wait" Cookie called after them as they ran for the door. "Wait! We still have twenty minutes of show to do!"

The door clanged shut. Cookie looked at the camera and said, "Sorry, audience," before falling into the chair.

A few seconds later, he heard the familiar shuffle of alphabet letters and lifted his head from his hands. In front of the table stood two capital Js, both bright blue and wearing baseball caps. One of them said, "Cookie, you look sad."

"Me feel sad. Hey, you not look familiar. Are you from Sesame Street?"

"No, Yonge Street. Anyway, we just wanted you to know that we love this show."

"Yeah," the other one said. "It's inspired us all season. All those challenges, and every time you come out swinging. You're a real role model for us."

"And if you're feeling sad," the first J continued, "we hope you can find some people and things that'll make you happy. Look at us -- when I've had a bad spell in a game and I know we're not going to make it to the Word Series this year, all I have to do is talk to Mark, and I feel better. Right, Mark?"

"Right, Brett. Look, Cookie, don't just do what you think someone wants you to do; do what you're good at."

Cookie sat up straighter, suddenly inspired. "That right! When me started this show, me ignored the thing that make me Cookie Monster! Everyone! Back in five; me have a plan!"

* * *

"Hello audience, and thanks for being patient; this is Cookie Monster from Cookie's Country, and me going to demonstrate recipe for....cookie!"

There were no assistants; there was no one to adjust the camera; there were no premade samples; there were only a few intrepid audience members left. But never mind that. "This one of my favorite recipes. It called Raisin Roughs, and it is yummy and delicious peanut butter and oatmeal cookie. First you mix together one cup shortening and one half cup peanut butter. Then you add two cups white sugar and cream them together. Add three eggs, three-quarters teaspoon baking soda, three-quarters teaspoon salt, one tablespoon milk, one teaspoon vanilla, one teaspoon cinnamon, one cup all purpose flour, three cups oatmeal, and one cup raisins. If you allergic to any ingredient, find something similar to substitute -- this is cookie recipe, not semiconductor manufacturing. Then you put spoonfuls on tray and put in 350F oven for ten minutes, and in ten minutes, you have yummy cookies!" He glanced down at the dough. "So, audience, you have to wait ten minutes. Fortunately me immune to salmonella, so me can eat dough now! Nom nom nom nom nom....."

The applause broke through his cookie haze. He looked up to see the remaining audience members standing and cheering.

* * *

The hour finished, Cookie shut down the cameras and began to clean up the studio.

As he finished washing the last dish, the producer emerged from her office. "Guess what, Cookie? The show's a hit! We've had forty thousand hits to your cookie recipe page in the last fifteen minutes! The station manager wants you to renew for another season with a focus on cookie recipes, and Kevin O'Connor just called to ask you to cohost his new spinoff about environmentally friendly demolition, _Eat This Old House_! What do you say about that?"

"What me say? What me say?"

_Do something that make you happy_ , he thought.

"Me say, C is for Cookie, and all that's good enough for me!"

**Author's Note:**

> My recipient's four requests were for Cookie Monster in a cooking show, a Kermit/Piggy rom-com, Alexander Ovechkin preparing for the Olympics, and anything about the bromance of Toronto Blue Jays players Brett Lawrie and Mark DeRosa. In a sudden fit of insanity, I saw a way to at least touch on all four requests, and this is the result.
> 
> Everything is better with random Blues Brothers references.
> 
> Here's one recipe for Raisin Roughs: http://www.cooks.com/recipe/op62a1vs/raisin-roughs.html


End file.
